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Knitting-work

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AN ANALOGY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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139

Page 139

AN ANALOGY.

SHOWING A FANCIED RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN A LITTLE STREAM OF WATER
AND A LITTLE LIFE.

A gentle rill gushed from the breast of Spring,
And flowed in beauty through the summer-land,
Stealing along, just like some bashful thing,
Half hidden by the boughs that o'er it spanned.
But the wild blossoms in its mirrored sheen
Beheld themselves in all their rustic pride,
And the tall trees assumed a brighter green
Because they stood the little rill beside.
So humble was it that the dallying grass
Asked not the question whence the wanderer came,
And the proud lilies, as they felt it pass,
Looked down upon the stream of modest name.
Yet tenderly the sweet rill loved the flowers,
And the great trees that grew upon its brink;
It saved for them the bounty of the showers,
And filled their empty cups with needed drink.
It asked for no return; unselfishly
It moved, content that it was doing good,
Delighted from its ministry to see
The gladness of a green beatitude.
Anon a change came o'er the little stream, —
The loving sun had claimed it for his own,
And, like some fleeting picture in a dream,
In all its quiet beauty it had flown.
The flowers grew sickly that had erewhile dwelt
Upon its banks in queenliness of state,
The sturdy trees its unlooked absence felt,
The lilies withered, beautiful of late.
The grasses sighed in sallow discontent,
And all confessed the rill a friend most true,
Contrite that its sweet life should thus be spent
Before its loving offices they knew.

140

Page 140
'T is thus we 've seen some gentle loving one
Noiselessly moving through the paths of life,
Here cheering sadness with her voice's tone,
There giving tears as mollients to strife;
Singing with bird-like sweetness on her way,
From the outgushing of her teemping heart,
As the airs blow, or the bright waters play,
Unknowing the blest influence they impart.
We value not the blessing by our side
Until, down-stricken by some fatal blight,
We feel it with our joy identified,
And mourn the star now hidden from our sight.
The noisy consequence of life may claim
The tribute of attention at our hand,
But 't is the little acts of humble name
That make our hearts with blessedness expand.